Has Mandela Day lost its shine, or has the country?

Many of us have been in that relationship. You know, the one where you keep putting in only to be told it’s not enough so you keep investing more until you feel defeated.

Whether it’s a friend, family member or lover, it’s a concept that would likely resonate with most.

Perhaps it’s lockdown fatigue or maybe there’s something else to it, but it feels like I’m in that kind of relationship with South Africa at the moment. Being white and male adds an extra dimension to it because we’re merely two paragraphs in and this has likely already been dismissed by many as “white tears”.

Sure, it may be exactly that. It may also be a reason why investing more of myself into a society that labels me a privileged, trash, thief with blood on his hands regardless of what I do, just is not something I can perpetually do any longer.

But that’s just me and the background behind my emotional fatigue, and while it may resonate with some other white men, it probably won’t with the rest of population. However, as a country hinges on failure, I’m learning to open my eyes to the situation of others not eager to invest in their citizenship but for differing reasons.

From the straight A matriculant who cannot fund their university dreams, to the gogo having given up the two-decade promise of housing and water, the disappointment is rife across the channels among the have-nots.

Then again, it’s not just the material things. The sense of belonging is also under attack as matters relating to language and culture come under threat without the promise of developing any underrepresented aspects.

We could go on for days about how the promise of a rising South Africa has been eclipsed by the practicalities of issues we had put on the back burner. Issues which might not have even been issues had more people been more empowered in various ways, but here we are. Regardless of social standing, it’s probable that you have a reason (likely several) to see and treat South Africa as the emotional bottomless pit.

And when you view it like that, you inevitably are going to ask yourself whether it’s worth it.

To many, Mandela Day was a chance to score social media brownies at the disproportionately low cost of 67 minutes. To others, it was the opportunity to take the high road and argue that 67 minutes was not enough. To they who pretended to know how campaigns worked, it was an opportunity to explain that galvanising everybody to give 67 minutes would prompt more good to be done by more people beyond the campaign.

All in all, people have different reasons for Mandela Day-ing, so when during the lockdown, it became social blasphemy to boast about your charitable exploits, perhaps it prevented the 67 minute appeal to Instagram models, but it possibly could mean that some opted rather not to boast about it even if they did it.

I know where my money is on that one, but it could be a reason, perhaps partially, for the dip in Mandela Day online traffic. Another could be that under a lockdown, people have less to give, though when I punted that idea, I was met with “it doesn’t have to cost anything to be nice”.

Really I’m at a loss but when the Peoples’ Bae announced that Mandela was no longer relevant for the issues South Africa faced, I found myself thinking, well yeah, if you’re living poorly after years of promise, what care do you have for the promise of democratic rights when they don’t lead to any substantial change in your living conditions?

He’s probably right in the eyes of many people –  people who for that very reason couldn’t care about doing 67 minutes to go out of their way for their neighbour. Those who did benefit from the Mandela promise may look at their job insecurity today and think, why should I invest when I am losing out?

Personally, for me, coming to the understanding that every person in South Africa has a reason to be bleak with the country, and can interpret that to result in thinking it’s a bad idea to emotionally invest, was eye opening.

Once I had realised that, it was not a tough leap to realise that being emotionally fatigued, while justified, was about as rational as that upset oom telling the street begger to “vra Mandela vir jou geld” in 1995.

Yeah, it’s not lekker to invest in a relationship that is hurting you. Investing in some of its people is not the same as investing in South Africa though, especially if it costs very little to do something nice. Sure Mandela day should be cancelled if you’re doing it for the country because that was never the intention. And seeing it as “investing” is also going to hurt because one expects returns from investments and disappointment is always curated by expectation.

If you’re giving unconditionally to your neighbour though, then you get the idea and Mandela Day should flourish in that respect. It wouldn’t be about how tired you are or how relevant Mandela is. It would be about what good of a person you are, even if you can’t brag about it.

In the meantime, we could look at some sort of marriage counselling between us and South Africa, because as much as it may hurt us we can still admit to being in love.

Anyway, if we got divorced now, it’s not like Australia is not as beautiful, supportive and caring as it pretends to be on its Tinder profile.

Richard Anthony Chemaly entertainment attorney, radio broadcaster and lecturer of communication ethics.

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